


The Forgotten Ones

by Lamamu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Crazy Michael, Demons, Eventual Castiel/Dean Winchester, F/M, Female Raphael, Leviathan Castiel, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2018-09-19 04:54:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9419642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lamamu/pseuds/Lamamu
Summary: I’ve had an Archangel Raphael muse hanging around for a while now. The story demands to be told!Raphael has been resurrected and ordered by Chuck himself to find redemption. But before she can even try, the archangel is hunted down by Heaven and tortured for her secrets. Michael has been released from the cage, but the gilded box he finds himself in is way, way worse. Gabriel is under orders to hide, much to the distress of a feisty Goddess and Lucifer has vanished.It's business as usual for the archangels.As for the humans...Dean hasn't seen Castiel since that fateful day when he waded into the lake and vanished. Years have passed, but he still yearns for the angel and nothing Sam does is enough to distract him. Until one day, he stumbles across a case that manages to pique Dean's interest.Apparently there's some strange things afoot in Colorado, and a terrible fate for the archangels ahead that cannot be avoided.If you would picture the lovely Summer Glau as Raphael as she appeared to me, we can begin.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to KitsuneArashi and Pikachulovesyou93  
> for the proof reading. <3

Raphael rubbed her face over her hand tiredly while she listened to the humans around her babbling on about their day. She was still adjusting to the fact that she even got tired and it irked her to no end. Her long dark hair fell over her face as she leant over her sandwich, picking it apart and arranging the contents in neat piles on her plate. The hidden Archangel still didn’t  _ need _ to eat, but she often found the consumption of food to be a pleasant experience.

“Raph are you listening to me?” She heard an exasperated voice ask her. Probably for the fifth or sixth time. That was nothing unusual, her dark thoughts frequently wandered away from the subject matter, and she was often rebuked by some human or another for not paying attention.

That also irked her. That a  _ human _ would rebuke  _ her _ , an Archangel of the Lord, and that she wasn’t in a position to object.

“What? Oh, yes, whatever you have planned is fine. I’ll be there.” Raphael answered vaguely, hoping it would be enough to put off further questions about her drifting thoughts. 

“Will you look at me?” The female voice demanded angrily in a tone that had Raphael almost standing at attention.  _ Nobody _ spoke to her like that anymore.

Raphael looked up, her dark eyes reflecting the sadness deep within her. “I’m sorry Celeste. I’ve got a lot on my mind, I….” She sighed and poked at her food for a bit longer before giving up altogether, her appetite gone.

Her co-worker, Celeste looked at her with sympathy in her deep green eyes. It was easy for Raph to dismiss her as a vapid, over-excitable human by her demeanour, and in fact, she had. But after being forced to work with her for the last seven months, Raphael had been felt compelled to admit to herself that for a human, Celeste was as sharp as they came, and she had come to like the giggling little ball of sass that she was.

“You need to speak to someone Raph, you can’t keep whatever it is inside you there forever, it  _ will _ kill you,” Celeste told her quietly, a rare trace of wisdom peering through her bubbly exterior.

Raphael looked at her and huffed out a bitter laugh. “There is nothing I  _ can _ tell.” She answered a little sourly.  _ ‘Nothing that anyone would understand anyway.’ _ She thought to herself.

Celeste let out a laugh of her own, the fleeting glimpse of wisdom gone with the laughter as if it never existed. “Raph if ever I met someone who needed to air their grievances, it was you…. If you don’t think you can talk to someone about whatever the problem is, write it down, scream it to the universe. Do interpretive dance if it works for you. But please,  for goodness sake, don’t keep it bottled up inside you any longer.” She leaned forward on the table, pleading with her friend. “It’s too toxic, and I’m worried about you.”

Rolling her eyes at the poor attempt at humour, Raphael’s eyes caught the time on the display on the wall. “I’m late.” She said, standing up in a hurry and grabbing her tray. “Don’t worry Celeste, I’m fine. I’ll  _ be _ fine.” She amended quickly. “Maybe I’ll do as you say, and write it down. I...I can’t talk about it.” Raphael chewed on her bottom lip as anxiety started to blossom in her chest and she fumbled with the tray. “Nobody would understand. I’ll see you upstairs.” Raphael turned away, walking towards the elevator and depositing her tray on a shelf as she passed by. She pressed the button and turned her head sharply, looking out of the tall glass windows of the foyer, sure she’d just seen someone duck out of sight. A concerned frown creased her face, and she pressed the call button again, trying to dismiss the fear that crept into her mind. 

_ They couldn’t find her here. She’d been too careful.  _

The elevator pinged, and she stepped in, casting one last look over her shoulder as the doors closed behind her, her mind's eye bringing forth the face of her tormentor to leer at her as the metal slid together with a final thud. Raphael took a shaky breath and leant back on the wall, bumping her head repeatedly against the cold steel as the elevator rose to her destination.

~~~

Late that night, when the city was asleep far below her apartment, Raphael sat at her newly acquired laptop and scowled at the screen in front of her. A blank document was open, and the cursor blinked, seemingly taunting her for the lack of words she had been able to convey in the three hours she had been sitting there. She had no idea where to start. Her story was far too old, far too vast for a simple ‘once upon a time’. A glass of whiskey sat to one side, having been refilled four or five times and she shook her head at it, remembering the Prophet she had been assigned to protect, and his writing habits.  She nodded to herself and smiled softly, but it was a smile completely devoid of humour. 

It seemed she had a place to start, after all.

She took a sip of her whiskey and began to type.

_ Floating bodiless in the Veil, I drifted for Father knew how long with the pain of death lingering in my scattered grace. The Veil was timeless, but the pain was real. I could sense other angels here, angels that had also been betrayed by their fellow seraphs. It shamed me that I was responsible for some of their deaths. It wasn’t supposed to be that way, and I even though I had been following orders, the guilt I felt as I floated drove me away from their questions. I fled from their presence and isolated myself, firmly believing that I deserved to remain here for eternity. _

_ Time passed, as it does and at some point, I roused myself from my thoughts and felt the familiar presence of my brother Gabriel floating nearby. He was distraught, to say the least. The waves of betrayal coming from him matched my own, and for a time we drifted together, bodiless, renewing the bond that had been forged eons ago, each taking pure comfort in the presence of the other. We had both died at the hands of our brothers and it angered me to hear that Lucifer had been the one to spill his life. _

_ We drifted together, trying to accept that things were out of our hands, and were coming back to the closeness we once shared when he was ripped away from me in a flash of light that could only have come from our Father. The emptiness I felt at his departure was as agonising as my death had been at the hands of Castiel. After Gabriel had gone, I felt more loss as one by one, my siblings were pulled out of the Veil away from me and eventually I was alone.  _

_ It was as it should be. I deserved my fate. _

_ Eventually, a new presence entered the Veil and called for me. I fled from it, terrified. I hadn’t felt a presence so daunting since I was little more than a fledgling. It circled, knowing where I was, finding me easily enough and I fled again. It was joined by another, and then one more, and together they hounded me until I eventually gave up and refused to move any further, wanting nothing more than the oblivion that was surely coming. Once I was cornered, two of the presences vanished, and I was left alone with the second. The power it wielded was enormous, and I was terrified, but at the same time, I welcomed the final death it offered me as it enveloped me in a cloak of power that I had no chance of defeating. _

_ ~~~  _

_ My senses returned to me slowly, and I woke up in an old and somewhat dingy cabin deep in a forest, miles from anywhere. I was lying on a mattress, covered with a blanket that was clearly owned by someone who liked the cats I could smell on it. I sneezed a few times, and confused by where I was and how I had gotten there, lifted my head to look around and froze. The Prophet I had been assigned to protect was still wearing his robe, his scruffy beard still in place. He was staring at me intently with a concerned expression on his face. _

_ “Where am I?” I asked him, the confusion of being back on Earth still very much evident in my tone. “How did I get here..? And what are you doing here?” I demanded in a surprisingly light feminine voice. What the hell? I raised a hand in front of my eyes and went into shock.  _

_ It was pale skinned, AND female. Again. I had never had a fair skinned vessel in all my long years. My vessels were the children of Shango.  _

_ Nothing as simple as racism. No, they just didn’t have the stamina that I required as an Archangel serving my Father. There was a particular gene in the lineage that I required, aside from the one that all of my potential vessels had. I sat up in the bed, the hair covered blanket falling away from my trim form as I tried to get a better look at the vessel I was in. I heard laughter and turned my head, glaring at the Prophet. _

_ “Careful Prophet,” I hissed at him, getting off the lumpy bed and standing tall. “You will show me respect, or you will be sorry,” I warned him. I might have to protect him but that didn’t mean I had to be nice. I was an Archangel of the Lord, one of Heaven’s most fierce, and Prophet or not, that meant something. The Prophet, to my disgust just kept laughing, wrapping his arms around himself as if to hold in his misguided mirth. _

_ “Oh Raphael, you really need to lighten up.” He said to me, still chuckling, his eyes bright with humour. _

_ I growled at him, taking a step forward, not realising that I was completely naked. “You will show some respect,” I repeated, anger creeping into my voice. _

_ He stopped laughing as suddenly as he started, and his face grew serious. “I think you’d better take a closer look at Me, Son.” He dropped the shield he had on his powers, revealing to me his true nature and I was overwhelmed. This was the presence that had been chasing me through the Void. _

_ I fell to the floor weeping like a small child. Finally, after all of these years. “Father.” I cried to him, one hand reaching out toward Him. “Forgive me. I thought you had abandoned us forever. I thought you were dead.” _

_ “Maybe.” He said, resuming the form of the Prophet, Chuck once more. “I am disappointed in you, my Son.” His lips curled into a smirk. “Or should I say, Daughter. I couldn’t find any of your true vessels’ bloodline left in the form you prefer. The one you are in is a very distant relation of the original line. Her ancestors were carted off during times of slavery a long time ago. Not what you are used to, I know, but she is all there is. The gene is pure. That is all you need for complete possession.” _

_ I gritted my teeth and groaned inwardly. I had been hoping that I could find another. Take another. “It will be as you say, Father.” I cast my senses inward, probing into the atoms of my new vessel. “She feels... healthy enough. I...fit, Father. Better than any of the others.” I looked at Him with no small amount of surprise. “There is no soul within.” _

_ “Behold, your True Vessel.” Chuck sighed at me sadly. “She was dying, Raphael. She’d been shot several times and was close to death when I found her, and she chose to vacate her body for you and return to Heaven. Her life was not a pleasant one, so  _ you _ will honour  _ her _ sacrifice, Raphael.” He paused and examined me, kneeling on the floor before Him, naked and exposed, in more than one way. “You and your siblings will clean up your mess. You were the last, and the most difficult to bring back Raphael. You resisted everything I tried to do to make you whole again. I even had to get the others like me to help me find you, and you know how I feel about asking for their help.” He said calmly, with a small amount of self-deprecation.  “But just to make sure you  _ do _ atone for your sins, I will be... around. Watching you. Watching all of you. Don’t make the mistake of thinking that I am not here.”  _

_ He walked over to me and put his hand on my face, wiping my tears. He smiled at me and kissed my forehead, His love for me filling me with a gladness I hadn’t felt for far too long. Then he disappeared.  _

~~~

Raphael lifted the glass to her lips and drank the whiskey down in one long gulp. She tasted salt and realised she was crying, and had been for some time if the wetness of her cheeks was any kind of indicator. She had thought that putting her words into a journal of sorts would help her, but all it was doing was forcing her to relive everything that had happened to her since her resurrection. 

A glance at the time informed her that the night had passed, and if she didn’t move, she was going to be late for ‘work’, so she closed the laptop and stood, stretching and lamenting a night of lost sleep. She wasn’t human, but she wasn’t exactly a powerful Archangel anymore either. Not while most of her grace was trapped.

Thanking her fast metabolism, she exchanged the whiskey glass for a coffee mug and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water soothe her and wash her tears away. Tears. Like many of her siblings, she’d never been an emotional creature, but the events since her resurrection had resulted in her expressing them in many new and often embarrassing ways. 

She opted to catch the bus instead of walking and stood silently in the throng of humanity that was the morning commute while she waited. A mild tingling feeling itched her shoulder blades, and the archangel twitched, the muscles on her back where her hidden wings attached jumping uneasily. Raphael realised with a start that she was being watched. A careful glance around her had her second guessing every face she saw, and she shook her head. If she was being watched, so be it. Father had promised He was going to keep an eye on her and she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that her efforts this time were different. She served humanity now, she was totally committed. Raphael had finally made a choice that was her own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raphael does some more reflecting, and we learn something about Michael's whereabouts.

Raphael closed up the wound of the young human female lying unconscious on the operating table in front of her and sighed. She had saved her patient, but only because she’d caved in and used her dwindling grace to locate the tiny fragment of metal that had lodged in her aorta, right where it parted from the heart and sent oxygenated blood pumping around her body. 

Humans were so fragile, she understood that now more than ever before, especially since she had hidden herself among them, working hard to do a small  _ tiny _ part to find redemption for herself.  _ Not _ , she mused ruefully to herself as she stitched up the surgical cuts she’d made in her patient. Not that she would  _ know _ if her Father ever saw. She had to believe that He was watching, that the pain was worth it, or she was going to go as insane as she heard her brother Michael was.

She thought back to the mixture of joy and sadness she had felt the day she had been resurrected and the days that had passed since. Hoping to be reunited with her Father once more, Raphael had answered a call to present herself to Heaven, only to find that it had been Metatron, doped up on excess souls that had summoned her back to use for his own ends.  He had trapped her in a circle of holy fire as soon as she arrived, and there the torture had started.

Metatron had started off pleasant enough, offering her protection in exchange for her secrets. He may have taken control of Heaven, he may have been the scribe, but there were _ things _ that he didn’t know, that only the Archangels knew, and he saw Raphael as the key to his ultimate victory. He’d tried to  _ seduce _ her into telling him what she knew.

She told him to go to Hell. Instead, he took her there. 

Binding her grace was just the start. He had used an ancient ritual to tear the bulk of it from her, grinning at her screams as it was siphoned slowly from her vessel in a swirl of blue light and trapped in a casket built specifically to hold an archangel’s grace. Afterwards, Raphael was bound and shackled to a wall and put on display in his, -  _ her _ \- office for months, years, she still couldn’t tell. 

She had been relentlessly tortured and mocked in front of the lesser ranked angels that served Metatron’s rule.

Her grace had been given back to her and siphoned over and over. 

He had taken her bound and weakened to a group of demons he was dealing with and let them do what they pleased, his only order was to keep her alive. Raphael’s vessel had been repeatedly beaten, cut and violated. 

She had screamed for days.

Raphael might have done wrong, she may have tried to manipulate Heaven to suit her own ends under the orders of her eldest brother Michael. But her secrets were exactly that.  _ Hers _ . There was a reason the archangels had them, and she wasn’t about to give them up to a mere  _ scribe _ .

She didn’t break. Instead, she waited, waited until it was almost too late, but she had managed to escape, stealing an angel blade and throwing herself into the portal to earth behind a pair of Grigori out hunting for rogue Angels. The Archangel had hidden herself immediately, using her diminished grace to transport herself away, hopping from place to place until she collapsed weakly into a heap against a tree in the forested section of a city park. She set to carving wards into her own ribcage to stop them from finding her before she passed out from the exhaustion of running so far with such a limited well of power. 

With nothing to do but survive, Raphael had struggled to find a place to hide amongst the human population when it became evident that it was her only choice. It was her skills as a healer, as  _ the _ healer that had decided for her one day when she had happened upon an elderly man suffering from a heart attack on the street. There was literally nothing she couldn’t heal, it was from her that all knowledge was originally  fostered. Knowing what was wrong with him before she had even come close, Raphael had used her extensive knowledge to keep him alive until other humans had arrived to take him to hospital. The feeling of satisfaction that she had done something  _ good _ and, more importantly,  _ unselfish _ had filled her with warmth, and she had headed to the nearest library to read about what it would take to be a healer amongst humans. Her research resulted in only a small sacrifice of grace for her to fabricate credentials for herself, and it took less time for her to actually find employment than it did to find a suitable place to live out her exile.

As she removed her surgical gown and scrubbed her hands, Raphael reaffirmed to herself that it had been months, as humans measured time and she had heard nothing from Heaven. She dried her hands and decided a coffee was in short order and decided to get some fresh air before she began the tedious task of paperwork. She headed for the fire stairs, closing the heavy door behind her and started to spiral down, her tired feet clumping on the stairs as she descended to the promised caffeine below.

~~~

Sitting back at her desk with her paperwork, Raphael’s eyes drifted to the laptop sitting hidden in her bag as she sipped the oversized coffee she had brought back from the cafe. Now that she had started to write her story down, she was finding that her thoughts were demanding attention, demanding to be heard. Shaking her head slightly at the situation, she resolutely picked up her written notes and transferred them to the hospital mainframe, ignoring the call from within until she was done.

_ I’ll never forget the feeling of the holy fire as it sprung up around me, trapping me in my own workspace in Heaven. There is a remnant of the female who owned this body before me, and echo of the constant fear she lived in for most of her life and I sense that it has transferred to me. I don’t remember ever feeling so vulnerable as I did when Metatron walked into my line of sight, smiling that evil grin at me as he approached. Or maybe it was dealing with the Winchesters that instilled that fear in me initially. I can’t tell.  _

_ All I know is that I couldn’t escape, Metatron had done his research, he knew how to keep me contained because as the holy fire died out, I was still stuck in that room with him. _

_ “Glyphs in the floor.” He had smirked at me, circling wide around me to avoid stepping into the circle. “They represent the missing holy fire, and have the same power. Tweaked just for you, Raphael, and any of your other lofty siblings that might head this way. So you’re stuck there until I choose to let you out.” Standing at the edge of the circle, he eyed my vessel with undisguised lust in his eyes. Yes, I knew what lust was. I had seen it, and I had felt it.  _

_ Shhh, I never claimed to be perfect.  _

_ “Set me free  _ Scribe _.” I demanded of him, ignoring the leering gaze he cast my way. _

_ “All in good time, perhaps. But before I can consider that, sister, you have something I want. Information.” He waved a hand and several Angels joined him, each stepping into the circle at separate points so that my back was always to one of them. The two on my sides grabbed my arms and held me firm, and the one behind me held my head still, forcing me to look upon my captor.  _

_ “I’m not telling you anything Metatron. There are things you don’t need to know.” I gasped out as the grip on my vessel tightened to combat my struggles. _

_ Metatron stepped closer and ran a finger down my face, licking his disgusting lips as he stared at me. “You know, of all the archangels...you certainly have chosen a good vessel, Raphael. How about I show you the things I have learned that can be done to the human body while I lived on Earth?” _

_ I pulled myself as far away as I was able to, but the hold of the Angels was too tight. I felt a hand digging cruelly into my hair and my head was tilted back so that my neck was exposed. The hand on my face ran down my neck and along my collarbone, sending goosebumps racing across my skin as a wave of repulsion washed through me. “Don’t touch me.” I warned him, still not fully aware of the danger I was in. The hand continued to travel down my arm, brushing across my breasts and I did the only thing I could think of. _

_ I spat in his face and brought my knee hard up into his groin. It was probably the biggest mistake I could have made because I was still stuck, held fast by the circle and the Angels surrounding me. I had the momentary satisfaction of seeing Metatron double over in pain for a few glorious moments before he sprang upright again brandishing an angel blade that he twisted in his grasp and waved in my face. _

_ “Bad move Raphael, I thought we were going to play nice for a moment there.” He sneered at me, showing his teeth in an arrogant display of aggression. “Do you recognise this blade?” He taunted me, holding it up so that I could see the glyphs carved into the handle. “You should, it’s yours.” He smiled humorlessly and I felt the blade pierce my upper thigh as he drove it through to the bone, crunching into it, and I am pleased to say that I didn’t make a sound. The pain was unbearable, but it was nothing compared to what he did next. He called for help, and soon another seraph appeared with the casket that was to be used to contain my grace.  _

_ “Let’s see how tough you are without your grace Raphael. How long you can withstand telling me what I want to know.” He pulled the blade out of my leg and ran the tip up my torso, applying enough pressure now and then as it slid across my clothing to sink the sharp edge in an inch before yanking it out again in a cruel twist and moving on. _

_ His smile grew crueller and he sliced into my cheek as my head was yanked further back. The part of me that remained of my host screamed at me to close my eyes and wait for death but I refused. Metatron wasn’t going to kill me. He had already admitted to needing information that he didn’t have access to. I sucked in a shuddering breath and told myself I was an Angel of the Lord, resurrected by my Father. I had a mission, and this was just a test. It became a mantra, chanted over and over in the silences of my mind as the blade cut me again and again. _

_ The blade sliced across my neck and the next thing I saw was my own grace draining out of me, dancing in agitation as it was ripped from me and forced into the casket. I grew weaker with each passing second and in a surprisingly short period of time I had less strength than a Cherubim. Just enough to ensure that my vessel would heal itself after each form of abuse that was heading my way. _

Raphael slammed the lid of the laptop shut and stood up in one swift movement. Pacing back and forth in her office from the window to the door, she fought down the anxiety that raised it’s head, cursing the fact that she had started to do this in the first place. She muttered to herself as she paced, grumbling audibly about Metatron and her lost grace and was so deep in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the door open, didn’t notice Celeste standing there with a concerned expression on her face that was replaced by a passive mask when she cleared her throat and spoke. 

“Raph upstairs wants to know if you can do a transplant emergency.” She said, her words cutting into the Archangel’s muttering like a blade through skin. Raphael paused in her tracks and immediately focused on her colleague. She raised a brow at her and nodded. Anything to free her mind from the turmoil within.

“What kind?” She asked Celeste, her demeanor now focused and more relaxed as her mind began to work on the new task at hand.

“As much as you can harvest. There was an accident. Multiple fatalities and quite a few of them are donors. They’ll be here in,” She checked her pocket watch. “About now.”

“Right. I’m on it.” Raph shook off her jacket and left her office, glad to have the distraction, and set to work.

~~~

The Grigori remained hidden from the weakened Archangel while he reported back to his garrison that she had indeed, finally been found. Raphael had led them on a merry chase, but now it was time to finish what the scribe had started. Plans were set in place to recapture her and deliver her once again to the ruler of Heaven.

~~~

Mad laughter echoed through the cell and out into the corridors beyond. The sound unnerved the guards on duty and they looked at each other with some concern. The more senior of the pair shrugged, it was nothing new to him but his insubordinate had never been given this particular duty before.

“Don’t worry about it Tenziel. He will quiet down eventually.” He said, not really caring if his words of comfort had any effect on the other.

“This isn’t right Anrael.” Tenziel muttered, not for the first time since the laughter began. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Shhh.” The other cautioned quietly, motioning with his hands for him to be silent. “Just do your job or you’ll wind up like your predecessor.  _ He _ knows, he sees more than you think. Just be grateful the prisoner is laughing and not screaming. The screams are far worse.” He glanced nervously up the corridor towards the cell. “The screams make you think he is sane and knows what is happening to him.”

The sound of the insane laughter cut off abruptly and the pair looked at each other. Tenziel motioned with his head for Anrael to take a look. The guard left his post and marched down the corridor to peer through the cell bars at the prisoner within. 

He was curled up in the fetal position against the far wall, banging his head on the bricks repeatedly. His dark hair was unkempt and his face sported a dusting of stubble that was moistened by a thin line of drool that ran from his mouth, down his chin and pooled onto his lap, dampening his clothing with each movement of his head. If he had stood up to his full height, he would have been over six feet tall and imposing enough to expect to be obeyed with a single glance. Anrael knew this from  _ before _ , when things had been easier for all of them. He gazed impassively at the prisoner within the cell for a few moments before he was satisfied he wasn’t going to hurt himself. Turning on his heel, he marched back out to his superior officer, leaving the drooling mess behind him without a backward glance.

Michael, first son of Heaven, Commander of the Heavenly Host and Archangel of the Lord watched the guard leave the cell area apathetically. There was no expression on his face as he wiped the drool free from his mouth and started to sing a hymn from the Angel’s choir softly to himself. His head continued to bang against the wall, only now he was keeping time to the song that he sang in a low baritone register. He was lost in his own mind, so far gone that he didn’t even know where he was and didn’t realise that his time in the cage was over. 

The damage had been done and Michael, Archangel of the Lord and Viceroy of Heaven was certifiably insane. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here come the Winchesters...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.. sorry this one has taken so long. I'll try to update it more regularly!

**THREE:**

Dean slammed the lid of the trunk down in frustration and turned, walking briskly away from the Impala, clamping down on the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him again. Just like the other million times he had opened it and seen the dirty, stained trench coat sitting in a calico bag underneath the false bottom his father had installed.  Every damn time he opened the hidden compartment it was there, staring him in the face. Mocking him.

His failure to stop Castiel from his stupid  _ stupid _ plan to open Purgatory. The plan that saw double cross within double cross, another Archangel (deservedly) killed and the Seraph that had pulled him from perdition destroyed by the very beings he had unwittingly released from the prison Chuck had placed them in eons ago.

Dean strode down the hallway of the bunker to find Sam, hoping that he had some answers for him this time. Castiel, Angel of the Lord and Dean’s best friend was gone, but Dean wasn’t giving up. He’d been dead before, right? Clearly that was no longer a barrier to the Winchesters, or indeed a lot of the people around them. Even that meddlesome trickster had been brought back, but aside from showing up randomly to torment them now and then, Gabriel had largely left them alone, preferring to keep to himself and whoever he was entertaining at that point in time. Dean shuddered away from the thought that he could be making porn again, and vowed to never  _ ever _ see that Archangel naked a second time. Or any other Archangel naked a first time.

Sam sighed, and ran a hand through his shaggy chocolate brown hair when he heard Dean thumping his way towards him, knowing what was coming. His elder brother’s single minded pursuit for answers was commendable, but they were letting other, real cases pass them by. Innocent people were dying everywhere and Dean couldn’t get past his obsession with Castiel for long enough to even take on a simple case of possession.

In truth, Sam wasn’t convinced the Seraph was still alive. It had been too long.  _ Four years _ . The last they had seen of him he was oozing blackness from every pore, and he had waded into a lake, presumably so that the Leviathan within him could disperse into the town’s water supply and infiltrate the population. The only trace of him that had remained was the dirty coat that had washed ashore. His body, or rather Jimmy’s body, had never turned up, and it was  _ that _ piece of information that Dean was clinging to like a life raft. Sam had long suspected that his brother’s affection for Castiel was deeper than he was letting on. 

“Hey man, so I found something..” Sam started as Dean walked through the door. He was hoping that a new case and a few days away would help them both to get back into the swing of things. The disinterested look on Dean’s face didn’t give him much hope, but he pressed on regardless. 

Dean ignored him as he opened the fridge and pulled out a beer, draining half of it in one long swig as he slumped down opposite Sam at the table. He scratched at the stubble on his chin for a long minute before answering. 

“What.? Come on, Sam. You know I.. we need to find Cas. We need him. We can’t just drop everything to go ghost hunting.” Dean tried to keep his tone moderate. These long, long months,  _ years _ , of constantly finding nothing were starting to wear him down. He leaned back in his chair and swung his feet up onto the table, slouching down a little more as his ass slid across the cushion.

Sam grit his teeth in frustration and characteristically rolled his eyes. “That’s just it Dean. Come on. We need to get out of here. And… I  _ might _ have found something.” His eyes watched his brother carefully, trying to gauge his reaction to what he was about to say.

Dean just grunted at him and took another sip of his beer. “Like the time you found something and it turned out to be a tulpa? Or the time it was a witch?”

“Okay, okay, those were reaching… But get this.” Sam swung his laptop around and pointed at the top of the screen to the headline:

_ ‘Man makes miraculous recovery from near drowning accident in Boulder, Colorado.’ _

“Look, Dean. Look at the description of the patient. Sounds like it might have been Cas. Could have been, at least.” Sam said, pushing the computer at his brother impatiently. “I mean it was ages ago but…” Sam’s voice drifted off and his sentence went unfinished.

“That’s nowhere near where he vanished…” Dean answered reluctantly. His green eyes however, had taken on a new light. Sam saw them focus on the screen and become more intense as the story was absorbed by his brother. “...but damn. The timing... We should probably check it out, right?” Dean looked up over the screen at Sam and nodded as their eyes met. “You know.. Baby could probably use the drive…” He went on lamely.

“Uhhh-huh.” Sam closed the screen and stood up to go and get ready, forcing Dean to crane his neck to look up at him. 

“We’ll start with the doctor at the hospital… Dr Celeste Lebini.”

~~~

The Impala rumbled into Boulder the next afternoon. They’d stopped overnight at their usual style of roadside motel with no incidents for a change. Now, as the old Chevy parked in a conveniently vacant spot outside the district hospital, the brothers were ready. 

“So, FBI won’t work here..” Dean said dryly as he sorted through his collection of fake ID’s.

“Fellow doctors?” Sam suggested helpfully. “Looking for information for a research paper?”

Dean shook his head. “Nah.” He replied, just as unhelpfully, his eyes trained on the buildings in front of them.

Sam grunted sourly, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. The night before he’d found a whole plethora of strange things that had been happening in the area over the last few years, but all Dean was interested in hearing about was the drowning victim: John Doe. “How about..medical investigators? We need a reason to be there Dean. There’s something going on in that hospital that has nothing to do with Cas.. or whoever this guy was.”

“Yeah, okay. CDC work for you?” Dean rumbled, his response vague as he continued to filter through their ID’s. “You’d think we would have sorted this out before we got here.”

“Well we could have, if you’d been willing to talk about more than just where the nearest bar was.” Sam complained as he took his ID from Dean. He checked out his alias and huffed out a laugh.

“Lemme guess, you’re Rogers.” He elbowed Dean in the side and grinned, his earlier complaint forgotten. “Where’s my metal arm?”

“Still at the shop. The vibranium shipment was late.” Dean threw him a wink and boy, did it make Sam feel good to see that light-hearted side of his brother again. He didn’t let it out very often these days. The trunk then slammed closed, and within seconds they were walking through the sliding doors of the hospital, both wondering what answers lie within.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to KitsuneArashi for the proofing and the coffee collision idea. We really do write well together.

**FOUR:**

They went through floor after floor, wing after wing. Observing and talking quietly with nurses and doctors when they could get a hold of them. The information they gleaned from the various departments all led Sam and Dean to the same conclusion.

One: this hospital had its’ fair share of weird occurrences from missing organs to the stench of sulfur. One orderly even swore he saw a ghost; 

Two: there didn’t seem to be any kind of set pattern;

Three; Dr Lebini and her associate Dr Sinclair seemed to be miracle workers. More than once, a patient had been saved when they should have died;

And four; both doctors were ridiculously hard to find. Nobody seemed to know where they were.

Dean, strangely enough, made sure they took their time, smiling and nodding and putting people at ease while they grilled them for information before they found their way to their reason for being there. Sam could tell Dean was getting impatient, but as he eyed his brother sideways he couldn’t fault his dedication. Sure, he was here to find a lead on Cas, but he had thrown himself into the case without hesitation once it became clear to both of them that there was  _ something _ happening at this hospital. Possibly several somethings, and it was their job to get to the bottom of it.

“We need to find those doctors.” Dean mumbled to Sam as they approached the entrance to the intensive care ward. His stomach grumbled loudly, and Dean swore it echoed off the stark walls of the corridor they were in.

“Yeah..” Sam agreed, nodding while trying to stifle a yawn. “Then, coffee. I’m running out of steam and we need to decompress.”

Dean’s only response was a faint grunt of surprise when the doors to the ward swung open as they entered the range of the sensors. The sharp intake of breath that followed it had Sam’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and he glanced over at Dean, only to see him staring at a pair of doctors talking quietly just inside the doors. Or at least they had been until Dean had literally walked right into one of them.

“Shi-oot. I beg your pardon ma’am.” Sam heard Dean say as he quickly sidestepped the other one, curling his tall frame around her petite one at the same time she turned and tried to dodge him. Unfortunately, they both stepped the same way and wound up colliding regardless, and it was at this point Sam realised she had been holding one of those reusable coffee cups, and its contents were now airborne. Seemingly in slow motion, Sam watched as the liquid rose up in an arc, and then descended, splashing over the pair of them and down onto the floor in-between. He felt the warmth soaking into his jacket, and through his white shirt, but he couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped his lips as he tried to untangle himself from the clumsy mess he and Dean had just created.

“Sorry. Jesus, I’m so sorry.” Sam said in his most apologetic tone when he heard a small yet indignant shriek of pain. He threw one of his long arms forward to steady the smaller woman, but he was too late. At the same time as Sam grabbed for her, the doctor stepped backwards, slipping on the wet tiles as her hand grasped at anything that might steady her balance and stop the fall. Unfortunately for Sam, he was it and he quickly found himself falling with her as his own feet connected with the coffee on the floor.

They landed hard, with Sam sprawled over the top of the poor woman, who exhaled loudly as his weight forced the air out of her lungs.

“Oh God. Crap.” Sam’s voice came out muffled, as his face was buried in her mass of dark brown hair. Underneath the smell of the spilt coffee he swore he could scent the warm, comforting tones of vanilla. At that point, Sam had to talk very sternly with himself not to press his nose closer to her skin and inhale. In the back of his mind Sam knew it would have been a funny sight, the way they had collided and fallen, but all that he could think of right now was the compromising position he was in. On a case. In an intensive care ward. On the floor, with both legs slotted quite comfortably between a strange woman’s thighs like he was seconds away from kissing her at the very least. She was warm, wet and soft underneath him, though the various sharp objects in her pockets that dug into him gave him an interesting contrast to mull over. His hands started to move of their own accord, trying to find purchase on the floor so he could lever himself up but all he kept finding was more softness. Why was there miles of it? And why did it fit so perfectly within his cupped hand? Where did the floor go? Questions upon questions.

A sudden rough chuckle from Dean off to his right was complemented by a light, almost musical giggle. The combination of the two sounds brought him back to his senses, and Sam finally made his way to his feet again. He glanced upwards through his hair to see both Dean and the other doctor trying very hard not to laugh harder at the situation. With a roll of his eyes he huffed a little, and turned his attention back to the floor.

Sam remained low, crouched down by the doctor he’d so clumsily squashed and examined her. His eyes traveled over her prone form and Sam’s eyes widened slightly when he couldn’t help but notice that her coffee stained shirt was now transparent. And there wasn’t a great deal underneath it. Lace. There was definitely lace. Her lab coat was open, and Sam could just make out the outlines of her nipples through the damp fabric that was clinging to her slender frame. ...But he wasn’t staring.

“Come on Sinclair, you can sleep when you’re dead.” The other doctor spoke in an unconcerned, yet amused tone, breaking the spell that Sam was under. She gave her colleague a non-too-gentle nudge with her foot. She giggled again before continuing in an exaggerated stage whisper, “And you might want to close your coat. I can see your boobs.”

“My coffee..” Sam heard her say miserably from underneath her hair. She hadn’t moved otherwise. “And my head.”

“Are you okay?” He reached out a hand to touch her lightly on the shoulder as she sat herself up in one swift motion. She blew her long mahogany hair out of her face and glared up at her friend, not looking at Sam until he awkwardly cleared his throat and repeated his question. 

“I’m fine, I’m just...” She began, but her voice trailed off as soon as she caught sight of Sam looming over the top of her. 

~~~

Oh no.  _ No. Nonono. _ It couldn’t be.

Raphael stared at him in dismay from her vulnerable spot on the floor. She couldn’t move, her mind was flooded with memories of  _ before _ . Before she’d died, when she’d lost all hope and given up. When she was an asshole who deserved her fate. When she’d manipulated and murdered and blackmailed anyone who got in the way of her goal. The only goal she could see at the time.

And now, crouched down next to her, covered in her latte with nothing but concern on his face was one of the reasons she’d died in the first place.

Sam Winchester. And if the chuckling to her left was any indication, Dean wasn’t far away either.

Her heart began to thump, the sound echoing loudly in her ears, and Raphael knew in her current, relatively powerless state that if they were there for her, there wasn’t a great deal she could do about it. She swallowed, and looked up at Sam, staring at him in an attempt to see any kind of recognition in his eyes and found none. Her brow furrowed in confusion at that, and she turned her head to observe Dean, who was standing next to Celeste with a knowing smirk on his face.

“Sorry about my uh… this guy.” Raphael heard him say, but she could only blink in growing confusion when he winked at her.  Dean Winchester winked at her? “He’s about the clumsiest person I have ever met.”

A scoff near her ear had Raphael’s head whip back to Sam. He was so close to her now. There were no legible words forming in her usually sharp mind, and all she could do was blink again.

“Pardon..?” She finally managed, raising a slender hand to rub at the back of her head. There was a knot forming from where she had knocked it against the floor. Maybe they’d just think she had a slight concussion or something. Or the floor would open up and swallow her. That would work.

“Okay, let’s get you up…” Sam put one hand under Raphael’s arm, taking hold of her waist so that he could haul her to her feet. Raphael saw Sam’s eyes drift to the front of her shirt, and she was suddenly very aware that she was wet, wearing her latte and that most of the colour she could see through the shirt when she glanced down wasn’t coffee. In the past, her semi-naked state wouldn’t have bothered her. But that was before Metatron.

These days she neither wanted nor needed the attention. Especially from someone as dangerous as Sam Winchester.

“...Thank you..” She said quietly to him, hoping that her voice was steady enough to pass scrutiny. Raphael then tried for a quick getaway, pulling her coat closed with a wry grin. “I guess I should go and change..”

“No, no.” Sam said, his apologies still echoing through the corridor. “I mean, yes, get changed. But let me buy you another coffee. Dr.. Sinclair was it?” He couldn’t believe the turn of events. They’d been searching for these two doctors for hours. He knew they’d both been in surgery at one point, but now, here they were, and Sam wasn’t about to let this opportunity slide. He didn’t bother to look at Dean, he’d get what Sam was up to in no time. In times like these, they didn’t need to communicate. Their machine was well oiled. Taking in her bedraggled state and meeting her eyes again, Sam smiled earnestly and unleashed his secret weapon. It was a rare person that could resist what Dean called his ‘lost puppy’ look. 

“Please?”

“She says yes.” The other doctor replied on Raphael’s behalf. “And you’re right. Her name is Dr Sinclair.” Her head tilted to one side and she grinned broadly at a private joke. “Our very own ninja turtle.”

“Ninja turtle…?” Dean asked curiously, eyeing Raphael with renewed interest. “I like ninja turtles. Which one are you?”

“My name.. Is Raphael.” The hidden archangel answered truthfully. They would find out anyway, sooner or later. She felt rather than saw Sam stiffen beside her, but the shift in Dean’s demeanor was immediate.

“And here I was expecting Donatello..” He replied flippantly, keeping his tone neutral. His body language, however screamed that he was ready for action.

“My father is an artist.” Raphael explained, and affected a long suffering sigh. It was a tale she had told many times and didn’t falter for a second. “He is a curator in the Louvre in the renaissance wing where I was.. Uh. conceived.”

“Ew, gross. No thank you.” Dean quipped, relaxing again.

Sam blinked though, and confusion reigned supreme. “Don’t you mean.. When? Or were you actually? Your parents. In the Louvre.”

Raphael twisted back to face Sam and smiled hesitantly at him. “So I’m told. TMI, right?” She plucked at her now buttoned lab coat and sighed. An orderly, who had witnessed the collision wheeled a mop and bucket towards the four of them, signaling that it was time for them to move on. Raphael stepped out of his way and tried again to extract herself from the conversation. “I really need to get out of these clothes before I start my afternoon rounds.”

“That’s understandable.” Dean said, shooting his brother a glare. “We  _ are _ here to talk to you, and your colleague though.” He flashed his ID card and held it up for the other doctor to examine. She snatched the whole wallet out of his hand.

“Me? I haven’t even told you who I am yet.. Mr Dean Rogers.” She said, raising a brow as she handed his wallet back. Her green eyes met Dean’s and the grin on her face turned impish. “How do you know I’m not a ninja turtle too? Or a powerpuff girl? Or a valkyrie?” 

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm, it was catching, and before he knew it, the words had just slipped out. “Alright then sweetheart. I showed you mine…”

Sam’s quick intake of breath and low muttered warning was drowned out by the sudden loud laughter that bubbled up out of the woman in front of him. She flicked her long ponytail over her shoulder and shook her head. 

“You asked for it..” Was all she said, and she stuck out her hand for Dean to shake. “Lebini. Celeste Lebini. My parents didn’t bonk in the Louvre. I was found in a turnip patch in Asgard and sent here. Can you believe the Asgardians actually like turnips?” Celeste’s eyes were dancing as she took in the dumbfounded look on the men’s faces. “Seriously though. Why are you here? And what’s  _ his _ name?”

Sam’s eyes flitted between Celeste and Raphael. Celeste certainly seemed more willing to talk than her friend, but then, she wasn’t covered in coffee and nursing a sore head.

“Sam. Sam Barnes.” He started at the delivery of her question, and as he gave her his ID, his eyes drifted back to Raphael, who was watching the exchanges with a patient expression on her face.

“Well uh, now that we’ve all met, why don’t you actually let us buy you ladies coffee and we can explain?” Dean asked sincerely. “It’s the least we can do after..” He waved his hand around at the mess, and the disheveled state Raphael was in. “Causing this.”

Raphael shoved a hand into one of her pockets and pulled out what looked like a pocketwatch. Except Sam noticed that this one had a dragon covering the face of it. She shook her head and surprised herself when her voice was disappointed. “Look.. Mr Rogers, Mr Barnes…” If she had been alone, Raphael would have actually laughed at their aliases. In her mind’s eye she could see it, and her thoughts began to drift a little. “But I have only twenty minutes before I need to see to my patients.” The watch went back into her pocket and she sighed ruefully. “I really was looking forward to coffee.. But I have to get changed. So please, excuse me.” She plastered what she hoped was a sincere smile on her face and backed away from Sam, Dean and Celeste before spinning on her heel and walking towards the elevator.

A slightly awkward silence fell over the three remaining and remained in place until Raphael disappeared and the elevator doors closed behind her. 

“Dr Lebini?” Dean asked. “Do you have some time to talk to us now or would you like us to come back?” He flicked his eyes toward the elevator and back again. “It’s nothing bad..” He went on, trying to convey calm. “.. and we don’t  _ need _ you both at the same time.”

“It’s just..” Sam started, stopped and lost his train of thought. He was uncomfortably aware of how damp he was now and completely understood Dr Sinclair’s desire to get changed, and wondered where her office was. He didn’t have that luxury right now though, and so he soldiered on.

“I can do coffee.” Celeste interrupted him. “I was just wishing I’d bought one when you sent Raphael flying..” she said with a grin. “Though I might get her one to drink between patients so she’s not completely unbearable later.”

“Sounds good to me.” Dean replied, and looked to Sam for confirmation only to see his brothers’ eyes were on the elevator door. “Yo, Barnes. Coffee.” He smiled, looking down at Celeste. “Lead on, Dr Lebini.”

For reasons he couldn’t explain, Dean felt at ease. It had been a while.

“Call me Celeste, Dean.”


	5. Chapter 5

Raphael closed the door to her office and leaned against it with a grateful sigh. As if it wasn’t bad enough she could sense she was being watched already, the Winchesters had to happen. The only thing stopping her from fleeing the scene and the life she had made for herself completely was the fact that Sam and Dean seemed to have no idea she was the real deal. Even though she had given them her name.

Maybe she could outlast whatever investigation they were doing. If she could manage that, then perhaps there was hope. After all, she  _ was _ trying to be as human as possible. If she could pass muster, maybe she could stay.

For long minutes, the archangel stayed where she was, breathing away the anxiety. The cold damp of her clothing was nothing compared to a hammering heart and the foreboding of doom that had descended since Sam had knocked her over. 

_ “Get it together Raphael.” _ she mumbled eventually, and pushed herself off the door to find a change of clothing. Fortunately for Raphael, long shifts and spillages were a common enough occurrence and she had a small stash of spare clothing available to change into. She rummaged through the drawer and pulled out a rolled up tunic, some clean underwear and a pair of tights, throwing them onto her desk while she stripped out of her wet clothes. 

A knock on her door had Raphael rolling her eyes and sighing again.

“Just a minute.”  _ I’m naked.. _

Raphael slipped on her panties and shrugged into her bra, wondering who it could be. Her tights decided to be useless and get twisted around her legs as she pulled them up, but she didn’t have time to fix them right now. “I’m coming.” Scooping up the dress, she shimmied into it and opened the door, moving her hands to the zipper as she turned back to find her shoes.

“What can I do for you?” She asked, not seeing the identity of the figure standing to one side of the doorway.

“Need some help?” A low husky voice that went  _ right _ through to her spine asked from somewhere close behind her.

_ Shit. _

For someone in fear for their life, Raphael sure wasn’t doing a very good job of being vigilant lately.

“Sam.” Raphael started, and her body jumped like she’d been hit with an electrical current. “I mean.. Mr Barnes.” Her fingers fiddled with the zipper and she let out a small grunt of frustration when she realised it was stuck.

“...Here.” Sam dashed forward and put down what he was carrying, turning to approach Raphael. The tall hunter made a spinning motion with his hands. “Turn around.” He instructed her in a firm, yet gentle tone, and before she knew what she was doing, the archangel had her back to the hunter and he had his warm hands on her neck. She inhaled sharply at the feeling of his hands on her and swallowed the panic that threatened to rise.

Or tried to. Her heart rate increased again, and memories of her time in Metatrons’ minions’ hands rushed to the surface. It wasn’t often Raphael let anyone touch her, even for a hug and Sam had invaded her space twice in less than an hour.

_ He doesn’t know _ . _ About any of it. _ She told herself in an effort to calm down. Somehow, Raphael managed to maintain her calm exterior, though she was fast becoming terrified. He was deadly, she knew that, and right now she was anything but. Raphael couldn’t even take hold of what grace she did have left just in case he tried anything. She knew only milliseconds had passed, but it felt like a lifetime. Raphael couldn’t breathe. Her lungs wouldn’t open, wouldn’t inhale.

She felt herself starting to lose control.

But then Sam’s hands simply lifted her hair out of the way and found her zipper, closing the back of her dress with little fuss and no hesitation. He brushed the fabric outwards with both hands, resting them on her shoulders briefly before he dropped them again.

“There. I.. uh. Sorry.” He smiled and looked down at his feet when Raphael turned around.

Air made its way into her lungs again. “It’s.. thank you.” Raphael tilted her head to one side and regarded the hunter curiously. “But.. why are you…?”

“Oh right.” Sam turned back to the desk and picked up the item he’d set down when he walked in. He  _ had _ felt her stiffen under his hands when he helped with the zipper, but he pretended that he hadn’t noticed. It was easy, considering he was also pretending not to have noticed the pale yellow lace under her dress when he’d closed the zipper. It wasn’t as though it was any of his business. Whatever the reason was. It might have just been because he hadn’t asked. Though… he knew he’d gotten a little handsy with her earlier on the floor. Totally by accident. But that also could have been it.

“I brought your cup back…” Sam said with a hesitant, yet sheepish grin. “Celeste told me your order when we got down there so I thought I’d, uh.” He set the cup back down again and reached up to scratch at the back of his neck, mussing his hair in the process. He most certainly didn’t look at the pile of discarded clothing on the ground. “So yeah, after before. I owed you at least that. I’m sorry. Again. And please, Raphael... call me Sam.”

“But.. wow.” She was almost speechless. Why would he do that? For her, of all people? One of Raphael’s eyebrows shot up curiously and she quickly looked to the cup on her desk. Sure enough, it was hers. In her haste to leave the scene in the intensive care ward, the archangel had completely forgotten about it. “Thank you, again then...Sam.”

The smile that appeared on his face was genuine. And again Raphael was forced to remind herself that he didn’t know her, not anymore. Nor apparently she, him. She opened her mouth to speak again when her pager buzzed, breaking their odd moment.

“I should let you get to your patients.” Sam said, looking towards the door to Raphael’s office. “But before I go, can I uh, meet with you later? What time do you finish?” The hunter swallowed when he realised his question might have sounded odd, but he had a job to do. “My hours are flexible when I’m investigating a medical case so I’ll work around you.”

Raphael had a little trouble keeping up with how fast Sam changed direction, and it took her a minute to catch up. Right, the investigation. Of course he’d be nice if he was investigating something. She squinted thoughtfully, as though considering his offer, but in truth she was deciding whether or not to try to use it to her advantage.

Screw it. Raphael needed intel, just like Sam and Dean did.

“Do you have a number I can reach you on? I’m supposed to finish in another three hours but, this  _ is _ a hospital.” She smiled ruefully up at him, both surprised that her tone was genuinely apologetic, and that she felt the apology to be real.

“Sure..” Sam fished around in his wallet and pulled out a card, handing it to her with a smile. “I’ll wait to hear from you then.”

“You will.” With a small wave, Sam left to return to Dean and Celeste in the cafe. Divide and conquer. They’d be at the bottom of this in no time.

~~~

He heard Dean before he saw him. In all honesty, Sam couldn’t remember the last time his brother had laughed like that, and so it was with a growing smile on his own face that he swung himself into a seat next to Dean and asked what was so funny.

“Had to be there Sammy.” Dean said with another chuckle. He patted his brother on the back and perked a brow, silently asking the question. Sam gave him the briefest nod and he turned back to Celeste, who was wiping tears from her eyes. The odd giggle still erupted from her lips.

“Raph bite your head off?” She asked Sam, sitting back in her chair once the fit of giggles had passed.

Sam shook his head.  _ Raph? _ “No, though I did.. Uh. You know what? We’re cool. She’s meeting with me later. For the investigation.”

“Uhuh.” Celeste exchanged a look with Dean and he rolled his eyes and reached into his pocket. “Pay up, Deano. I told you she’d agree if he went bearing gifts.”

Dean pulled out a ten and handed it over with a grumble. “Yeah yeah.”

Celeste folded the note, stuffed it into her shirt and worked it into her bra. Both men followed her hands with interested expressions on their faces. Dean even went so far as to tilt his head to try to get a better look. “I would have just pulled rank if she’d said no.” The doctor shrugged, and her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Oh did I forget to mention I was her superior? Silly me.”

Sam burst out laughing. “Dude she played you.” He knocked himself into Dean’s shoulder, reaching around to pat him on the other one. “Better luck next time. Noob.”

“Bite me.” Dean said, shoving him back again. He turned back to Celeste and pointed a finger at her. “Not cool. Just for that, the first round is on you later.”

“And on that note, I’ll be going. There’s a couple of kids in the palliative ward that need my.. time.” She slid out of her seat and regarded the brothers with interest. “Don’t make me regret searching for those files for you, Rogers.” And with that, Celeste flicked them both a wave and set off.

Dean watched her leave with a smile on his face. He’d just spent an hour talking to her. He’d only known her for slightly longer but it felt like a lifetime.

“Ain’t she something?” He asked, turning back to Sam again, only to see his brother staring at him with one eyebrow raised almost to his hairline. “...What?”

Sam huffed out a breath and raised both hands up in defense. “Nothing, man. It’s just .. I haven’t seen you this animated since Cas disappeared. It’s nice to see you moving on.”

Dean’s face fell. Moving on? There was no moving on from Cas. None. He didn’t expect Sam to understand that. He didn’t expect anyone to. Loving an angel wasn’t easy. Admitting it out loud, even harder. Talking about it to  _ anyone _ , impossible. So he shook his head and stood. “Dude, I’m not moving anywhere. I’m playing nice to get information. The fact that she laughs at my jokes is just a bonus.”

“And she’s hot.” Sam quipped in a dry tone.

“Doesn’t hurt, but I’m not the one who copped a feel.”

“Shut up Dean.”

~~~

Several hours later, Dean was walking back to the hotel from the bar he’d met Celeste at with a bag tucked under his arm. In it was everything the doctor could find on John Doe patients in the last five years along with anything else she thought was weird that she could fit into one satchel. He was whistling under his breath, his stomach warmed by the beers he’d had with the funny little brunette when he thought he saw something familiar ahead of him.

His step quickened and he dodged in an out of the evening crowd to try to catch a glimpse. There, rounding the corner ahead of him near the entrance to his hotel. A pale trench coat and a mop of dark hair.

“Cas!”

Dean’s feet moved faster than he thought was humanly possible to try to catch up with the figure. He skidded to a halt at the corner, breathing heavily as he scanned the street ahead. 

Nothing.

He ran, peering this way and that for another few hundred metres before he stopped again, the confusion clear on his face. Whoever it was had  _ looked _ like Castiel, and had seemingly disappeared into thin air down a still-crowded street with no side alleys or doorways.

A thin trail of sweat ran down Dean’s spine, followed by a shiver.  He was gone. Whoever he was. The elder Winchester spun in a circle, wishing for his breath to settle, wishing for answers. Was it a coincidence? Was he seeing things?

The satchel weighed heavily under Dean’s arm, a cruel reminder of why he was there in the first place. With a sinking heart, Dean headed back towards the hotel, hoping that Sam was there. They had work to do.

~~~

It was well after midnight and the streets were quiet. Raphael got out of the taxi and made her way up to her apartment, nodding tiredly at the doorman Stefan on her way past. She yawned as the elevator doors closed, and leaned heavily against the rear wall with a grateful sigh as it began to rise slowly to her floor. Once there, the archangel shuffled into her bedroom, dropping her bag on the bed and sinking down to remove her shoes. A flutter of paper caught her eye and she was sharply reminded that she’d promised Mr  _ Barnes _ a phone call.

Three hours, she’d said. Almost nine had passed. By Chuck she was exhausted.

_ Hi Sam. I’m sorry! I just got home. But like Samwise said to Frodo, I made a promise. Right now I think I’m going to shower and then pass out. Call me tomorrow if you still need to talk to me. -R _

She hit send and stripped off her clothes, wrinkling her nose as the scent of stale coffee hit her senses. Nine hours of dried coffee on her skin on top of everything else, but it all soon vanished as the hot water hit her skin. The aching tiredness faded a little as Raphael slowly lathered herself in the vanilla body scrub she loved so much, and even further as her muscles relaxed under the hot spray. Memories of the day flitted through her head in a jumble, but the one that stood out the most was the easy smile she’d gotten from Sam Winchester.

It made her both suspicious and.. Happy? Could that be it? Weird.

As Raphael turned the water off she heard her phone buzzing on the bed. “Please don’t be work.” She said irritably to nobody as she dried herself and threw on a clean shirt and a pair of panties. To her surprise, it was Sam.

_ No problem Raph. Glad to hear from you. Rough night? _

She huffed out a quiet chuckle at the shortened version of her name and responded with quick fingers.

_ Yes. A hit and run, a small boy. He was on my operating table for 5 hours. He still might not make it. _

Once she could have saved him without even thinking about it. Though admittedly, during that time she wouldn’t have cared enough to bother. Now it just seemed like there were too many to save and not enough grace. For some reason hers didn’t rejuvenate like it should, and Raphael had a few theories about why. The archangel sighed, turned off the light and climbed into bed, letting the lights of the city guide her through the darkness. The phone pinged at her again as her head hit the pillow.

_ That’s awful. He’s lucky you were there eh? Get some sleep ninja turtle, I’ll call you tomorrow. _

Raphael was already asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's coming. Soon, I promise.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam thinks inappropriate thoughts about someone he'll probably want to stab later..
> 
> Castiel is finally revealed for what he truly is. 
> 
> Oh, and more Michael because we love a crazy boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this went a different way than my notes told me it was going to but so be it.

“Mmmpphh.” Sam woke up with the morning sun in his eyes and groaned, blinking tiredly into the brightness of the new day. He threw an arm over his face to block the light coming from a crack in the curtains and reached for his phone to see what time it was, peering at the screen from behind his mop of hair.

9:30 already. He exhaled in exaggerated despair, knowing he would have to get up soon, but before he could move anything, his nostrils were assaulted by the foul stench of death. At least that’s what it smelled like.

Worse, it was his own breath. Sam gagged and ran his tongue over his teeth. Furry. “Ugh.” He shifted, moving to a sitting position and groaned again, louder this time because with the movement his head began to thump and a wave of dizziness washed over him.

Damn it. He’d gotten way to drunk with Dean last night when he’d come back and mumbled a few simple, yet catastrophic words neither of them had truly been expecting.

_“I just saw Cas.”_

The heartache he saw, drawn anew on his brother’s face was all he needed to see before he was reaching for a bottle. It took Dean another hour to tell him what had happened, that he’d seen Castiel on the street. Sam tried to talk sense to him, tried to make him see logic but Dean was adamant. Face it, Dean was a mess. So, Sam did the only other thing he could think of. He plied his brother with alcohol until he was drunk, and him along with it if his headache was any indication. With his forehead resting in his palms, Sam stayed in his seated position until the dizziness passed, moaning to himself about how it was all Dean’s fault. When he eventually got up, he closed the offensively parted curtains first and then stumbled to the bathroom on long, shaky legs.

He scrubbed at his teeth so thoroughly he thought his gums would bleed, and stood under the hot spray of the shower until his skin turned pink to get the stench of whiskey out of his pores. Then, the tall hunter flopped back onto the bed wearing only his briefs and dozed comfortably under the blankets for another couple of hours.

Sure, he had stuff to do, but until Dean stopped snoring he couldn’t really do anything. Unless…

Sam lazily twisted on the bed and grabbed for his phone. He wondered if Raphael had contacted him last night. To his surprise, there was a message waiting for him. Clearly, she had, and clearly he’d responded.

_Cute Mr Barnes. You called me Raph and ninja turtle on day one. What’s next B u c k y, am I a tennis player or or an archangel? Working all day, btw._

Sam stared at his screen in horror, the blood draining from his face as he scrolled up. He collapsed into the mattress, sagging in relief when he saw that he’d kept it PG… at least over text. A few flashes of memory told him that his dreams may not have been quite so innocent, the memory of vanilla and soft, pliable skin came forth and Sam was suddenly glad the blanket was hiding his lower half.

So sue him, it had been a while between drinks. A long, _long_ while, and the doctor was.. cute. In a cool, almost dismissive kind of way. On the surface at least. He sure wouldn’t mind peeling away some of those layers, physical or otherwise... especially if the hint of what he’d already seen was any indication of what was hiding there. Sam’s eyes flicked over to glance to his snoring brother at the same time his hand crept under the blanket to his half erect cock. He shifted his body away from Dean, and got comfortable. He was still in two minds about whether or not he was going to continue as he lazily ran the tips of his fingers along the outline of his shaft. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just..

“Errrrrrr, Sammy. What the hell?”

Dean’s muffled voice came out of nowhere, putting an end to _that_ in no time at all. Sam scowled at the wall and fell onto his back with his knees up to give his brother his full attention.

“..’sup?”

Surely he hadn’t noticed.

“Why did you let me drink so much? This is all your fault.”

Okay, phew. Crisis averted.

“I don’t see how, Dean. You’re the one who wanted to drown himself in the booze, I just went along for the ride.” Sam had no sympathy for Dean. He was too busy using it all on himself. He eyed the satchel Dean had come in with last night before they’d decided to drink everything in sight and sighed. Swinging his legs off the bed, Sam reached for his jeans and pulled them on, only standing when he could zip them up to hide his predicament.

“Get up, shower your smelly ass. I’ll head out and grab us some coffee and then you can explain what the good doctor gave you last night.”

The shoe flying at him from the other side of their hotel room was all the indication Sam had that Dean was even conscious.

 

~~~~~

 

‘What’s taking so long?”

The figure in the trench-coat tilted his head to one side, regarding the trio before him with disdain. His sky blue eyes glittered in the dim light. It was so.. Mundane to have to deal with such creatures now, but it was all he had to work with.

“Sir, you told us to be discreet. We had everything in place but there was a complication we didn’t expect.” The underling shifted from one foot to the other, hoping this delay wouldn’t cost him his life. Their leader could be fickle at times.

“Ahh, yes. I saw your ‘complications’. Forget about them. Those idiot Winchesters suspect nothing. They don’t even know why they’re there in the first place. Just bring me the archangel. Her insane brother is just _pining_ for her company.” The figure snorted derisively. He hadn’t expected it to take so long to find _her_. His predecessor’s efforts had been less than useless, sure. But she’d hidden herself well. “Or he would be, if he knew his ass from a hole in the ground.”

“We’ll have her within the day.” The angel saluted. They always saluted.

“My collection is incomplete. See that you do.” They winked out, disappearing in a nervous flurry of feathers and the leader smiled grimly, staring at the space they had so recently occupied. For some reason he found that the implied threat of death always got the job done.

On a whim, he decided to pay a visit to the prison and his most prized possession. Stalking down the halls, he noted that the area was a little too quiet. He frowned, until he realised what that meant.

Ah, yes. The leader of heaven was singing again. It always made the rest of the angels that had been locked away fall silent, almost as though even when insane, Michael’s voice would calm them. He listened for a moment, passing by the cells of several angels who had their heads turned towards the end of the corridor where Michael was. Coming to a stop outside the bars at the front of his cell, the figure let his eyes roam over what was before him. Bars. Another mundane thing. He would have scorned them if not for the intricate runes and sigils carved into every square centimetre of metal.

Touching them was like setting fire to your skin, except it was the true form that was affected. It was built to hold angels, after all.

“How are you today Michael?”

Not that he cared. The pathetic thing lying on the ground in front of him was a sad, broken excuse for the archangel that had led the charge to lock him and his kind up aeons before.

Michael, for the most part was cohesive. Eyes the colour of the ocean stared back at him curiously. The unkempt hair and dark shadow of stubble only added to the confusion etched into his features.

“..’M good.” Michael’s voice was innocent, almost childlike in its delivery. He blinked his eyes and pulled himself into a crouch, eventually standing to stare down at the figure on the outside of his gilded cage. “Can I get out of here soon?” He chewed on his bottom lip, a worried frown replacing the curiosity. He’d been so good, such a good boy. Surely the nice man on the other side of the bars would let him out soon. He’d promised.

“Soon Michael. Soon, I promise.” No he didn’t. He had no intention of setting Michael free, but it served his purpose to lead him along by the nose. Hope, even when false was so pleasing to crush. “First, you’re going to have a visitor, moving in next to you in fact! If you can help her learn to be a good girl maybe I’ll let you out then.” A smile appeared on his lips that could only be described as evil and Michael took a step backwards, a hint of fear in his wide blue eyes.

“But you--”

The grin remained in place, and the Leviathan wearing the seraph Castiel took a step forward, rolling his neck to one side as he reached up to take hold of the sigil coated bars. “I know my boy, I know. But this is too good an opportunity to pass up.” Their fire burned him, but it was nothing compared to the shrieking of the angel trapped inside of him as the Enochian symbols did their intended work.

“Raphael will be here soon. She’s a delectable little thing in that female vessel your Father shoved her into. Be sure to play nice.”

Ahh, there it was. The Leviathans’ eyes narrowed when Michael let out a blood curdling shriek and threw himself at the bars, reaching desperately for the one who had rescued him from one cage and imprisoned him in another. He’d been waiting to find a trigger point for the archangel, something that would make him know _exactly_ what was going on, and it looked like he’d just found it.

“Ag, ip tilb! Gnay ip drix a diaspert. Ozien! Ozien!”

_No, not her! Do not bring down the third flame. Mine! Mine!_

Michael howled in pain when the sigils on the bars seared into him, burning at his grace as he launched himself repeatedly against the metal bars. The only word that had really registered was /Raphael/, and he had reacted with all the fire the Leviathan had hoped for when he mentioned Michael’s faithful lieutenant. As far as he could tell, neither had seen the other for a long time, despite how closely they worked together. The shadows of his great, powerful wings spread out behind him, flashing in and out of the physical plane as the archangel lost control again, descending back into the chaos that was his own mind.

“Ozien!”

As powerful as he was, he couldn’t break free. Not when he was in a box adapted specifically for him. His words didn’t make sense, but the Leviathan could make out what were meant to be threats amongst the desperate sounding pleas. Promises even.

“Ozien!”

None of it mattered. He turned, pivoting on his heel, cursing to himself at the ancient language used by the archangel. It had been so long since he’d heard Enochian, but the memory of it and how it was used to lock his kind away would never, ever fade.

Unlike the voice of the insane archangel, whose voice faded into oblivion as soon as the heavy door was closed behind him.

 

~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, and let me know what you think. I'm working with a few different head canons and concepts here.
> 
> also, forgive my Enochian if it isn't quite right. The online dictionaries don't always agree with each other.
> 
> <3<3<3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's nothing quite like a curve-ball to keep things interesting, and Dr Lebini is about to reveal something she wasn't quite ready for yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so there's one more character to come after this. I think.
> 
> I dunno man, these muses don't let me know in advance what is going on.
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated! <3<3<3.

~~~~~

Dr Lebini paced her office, agitated beyond belief. Not only had Dean not taken her warning literally, his narrow minded focus to draw attention to himself from the very thing he should have been avoiding was going to complicate everything at best. At the worst, he could ruin _everything_ , and knowing what she did of him, he probably would.

He seemed nice and all, for a human, but..his interference was going to cause problems.

Maybe she’d have had better luck with Sam, but his focus had been on Raphael. Oh, and wasn’t that amusing to the Goddess. She hadn’t been faking her laughter when the younger Winchester had clumsily groped the archangel on the floor in the corridor a few days before. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t have done it if he’d known, and Raphael herself had been a bundle of anxious nerves since the encounter.

Though as always, she hid it well.

Celeste sighed and pressed her forehead to the window, staring down at the hospital gardens as she tried to remind herself why she was there in the first place.

_‘Witness.’ He’d said without leaving room for argument. ‘I need you to witness.’_

_‘Shove it, Chuck. I’m not doing your dirty work for you.’_

_‘Please. This needs to play out without me around.’_

_‘They don’t deserve this.’ She’d all but begged him to relent, but the creator was adamant. To top it off, accepting His leadership was a condition of her being allowed to visit His universe again in the first place._

“Nice place you got here, Sweets.”

The flurry of wings distracted Celeste from her moody musings, and she turned to face the intruder, mustering a quick, albeit sad smile for him when he winked at her.

“How can you be so flippant when the shit is about to hit the fan?” She demanded irritably, leaving her position by the window to stalk over to him. “They’re _coming_ for her Gabriel, they’re coming soon, and I’m ‘not allowed’ to interfere.”

Gabriel, the Messenger, trickster and youngest archangel put his hands up in his own defense, trademark golden eyes twinkling in the light. The cocky grin on his face gave Celeste hope, but she knew it was there for her benefit. He held none of his own for the current predicament.

Damn Chuck for leaving His archangels in this mess.

And damn her for being bound to obey Him.

“ _Celeste…_ ” Gabriel’s voice was teasing. That wasn’t her real name, but using it would draw the attention of their enemy and nobody wanted that. Celeste, as far as anyone knew, was like his Father, though younger, more impetuous and Gabriel had been smitten with her since he’d accidentally ruined the colouring on her her wings when he was about a thousand years old. Though personally, _he_ thought they looked better now, with the same muted gold as his shining in her dusty green plumage.

“I can’t get involved anymore than you can.” His face fell into seriousness, a rare sight. “In fact, that’s why I’m here. Lucifer disappeared about six months ago. One day we were chilling in the Swiss Alps with me laughing at his lame attempts to ski, and the next… he was gone.”

The youngest archangel paced, mimicking Celeste’s movements from before without realising. He ignored the gasp of surprise that came from Celeste and continued.

“And that’s also why I’ve been silent. I’ve been looking, hiding. I can’t turn my Godly powers off the way you and Dad can. We shine like beacons no matter what. As near as I can tell, the asshole wearing Castiel has him…”

“....and Raphael is next. For Heaven’s sake Gabriel you should have told me sooner, I could have done something to find him. The Winchesters are here looking into Castiel’s disappearance under the guise of a case.. and now my hands are tied.” Celeste interrupted him, her voice coming out as a low growl. She was so _tired_ of sitting on the sidelines. That was more Gabriel’s deal, not that she begrudged him that this time around. He was doing what he could without risking himself in the process, as ordered by God Himself. Though if he was honest, working from the shadows was Raphael’s deal, not his.

Whatever else happened, the Leviathan couldn’t be allowed to take all of the archangels. It would be catastrophic.

“He won’t kill her.” Gabriel all but waved off her concern for his sister. Sister.. The idea was still weird, but then Raphael had always been more suited to the gender she was now portraying. He vividly remembered teasing her about it when they were all still together.

_Still a family._

“She’s suffered enough!” Celeste snapped at Gabriel, coming to stand in front of him so he had to stop moving. “You’ve _all_ suffered enough.”

Gabriel let out a long suffering sigh and rolled his eyes at her melodramatic attitude. Her body language told him that she was in a snippy mood, standing there with her arms folded across her chest, those big green eyes of hers narrowed ever so slightly. A disarming grin appeared on his face, and he reached out and pulled the feisty Goddess in for a hug, cupping his hand to the back of her neck as he threaded his fingers through her dark hair.

Cutting her off at the pass, as it were. They’d done this dance before.

“Have a little faith Sweets,” He couldn’t remember why he started calling her that, but it had stuck and neither of them seemed inclined to want to change it. “As long as I stay out of sight, there’s hope. _That_ is my task until I’m needed later. Yours is to watch.  You know I don’t like this anymore than you do, but it’s what Dad wants..”

“And whatever He says, goes. I know, I know. But damn it Gabriel, I didn’t spend aeons in exile watching _my_ creations die so that _His_ could follow the same path.” Celeste leaned her temple on Gabriel’s shoulder and wrapped her arms around his waist. It was a small comfort in a time where there was often time for none. “My sacrifice was supposed to stop this from happening, but here we are.”

Gabriel grunted sourly. He’d been wondering the same thing since this all started. “It must be one of those unchangeable things then Celeste. Fate will find a way for the showdown, no matter what.”

“Fuck fate, and fuck the stupid showdown.” Her reply was somewhat muffled by the position of her mouth where it was tucked into the collar of Gabriel’s jacket. “..and fuck everything else. I’m not going to sit on the sidelines forever.”

Chuck help them all if she took a stand.

~~~~~

Raphael frowned at her sleeping patient and left the stark white room, taking the clipboard of notes with her to check it against the file on the computer in her office. There was something amiss, something not quite matching up with what her mind told her was right, and she needed to get to the bottom of it before the chemotherapy the little girl had been assigned to began.

If only she could just heal her, like she wanted to. But she couldn’t. Not only would it draw attention that she didn’t need, especially with the Winchesters still sniffing around, but it would seem strange.

Nobody just got cured miraculously like that. It would have to be gradual, as though it was the chemotherapy that was doing the work and not the grace of an archangel, granting a miracle.

And therein lie her other problem. Raphael’s intuition was still telling her she was being watched, and to that end, the archangel had decided to hoard what was left of her power, letting it recover without her depleting it back down everyday.

Slowly, as the days went by she could feel it working, though it was far, far too slow. Raphael had almost come to terms with the fact that until she could recover the casket containing the bulk of it, there wasn’t a lot she could do.

Damn it, she was tired of feeling so _weak_. Even if by angel standards she was still formidable, Raphael’s power source was but a shadow of what it used to be.

As she approached her office, Raphael thought she heard the flurry of wings, indicating an angel was either arriving or departing the immediate area. The archangel reached out with her grace, extending her senses into the room beyond the pale door that stood between her and her desk.

Nothing. Nada, there was nobody there.

The archangel frowned again, and unlocked the door, pushing it open in time to see a sheet of paper drifting down from Chuck knew what height to settle on her desk.

“....”

Like angels of any rank, Raphael had access to a blade that could be summoned at her whim, and she did so now, letting the sigil-engraved metal handle fall into the palm of her hand. The razor sharp blade stayed hidden in her sleeve, but the archangel was ready. Cautiously, she stepped her way into the room, throwing the door shut behind her and sealing the warding back into place.

Nothing happened. Again. So whatever it was, it wasn’t a demon or the wards would have taken care of it. Raphael approached her desk on cautious feet, her dark eyes drifting to the sheet of paper that had now settled on the timber and beyond, only to see..

_Holy shit._

“Oh no..”

There, sitting on her desk next to the note was a vial of what looked like grace, and from the pulsing, _pure_ white glow being emitted, Raphael knew it wasn’t just any angel grace.

She didn’t even need to probe it with her own to see know she was looking at a vial of archangel grace, and that meant one of her brothers. Shaky hands reached for the vial and the note, and Raphael sank down into her chair with a heavy sounding thud.

It had been so long since she’d heard from any of them. Gabriel she’d felt in the Empty, Lucifer she hadn’t seen since he was sent to the cage and Michael.. Well, despite how closely they worked together, and her allegiance to him and Heaven, the two archangels hadn’t been in each other’s company for a long, long time.

Raphael wasn’t even sure if he knew she had died trying to free him and Lucifer from the cage… or what he’d say to her now, if he saw her in this pathetic state. If he’d even recognise her at all. She let her head fall backwards to rest against the back of her chair, closing her eyes as she allowed herself a moment to dwell on how things used to be.

Back before they realised they were just pawns in a greater game.

Long moments passed, but Raphael still didn’t move, preferring to stay lost in her memories for the time being.

_It was the Garden. Somewhere so deep inside that wonderful piece of Heaven that none of the lesser angels had found their way to it yet. Even if they had, they held enough respect for the four archangels that none would have intruded on their private place._

_The place they came to talk, to laugh and sometimes.. well. But it wasn’t sadness that had brought them there today, though they all knew something big was coming. The very fabric of the universe shook with it, sending tendrils of apprehension into them all, but try as they might, none could fathom what was on the horizon._

_...And their Father was suspiciously silent where normally He’d be reassuring. That_ still _wasn’t the reason why they were there though. No, today the four had gathered as they often did, just to be in each other’s company without the burden of command weighing them down. No duty, no underlings, no training.. And definitely no contention._

_Oh, how times would change. How_ they _would change._

_Not that any of them knew that yet._

_To say that the archangels had physical humanoid forms wouldn’t have been correct. It was more the impression of one that each represented, designed to contain their true forms into something more manageable at this level of reality._

_Raphael remembered sitting on the grass, cross-legged, picking at the masses of colourful hyacinths while Gabriel played a strange game of fetch with a doe that had wandered into the emerald coloured glade they had gathered in. Michael and Lucifer weren’t far away, but had distanced themselves from the younger two in order to test their skill with the blades that their Father had bestowed on them all before He had become distant._

_They were glorious, each made specifically for the archangel it was created for, carved with sigils to focus and enhance their power as they battled against the enemies of Heaven._

_Fire and ice, air and earth._

_They were there for hours, days, or perhaps only a second. None of them paid attention to the passage of time. They would leave their sanctuary when they were ready, and not a moment before._

_It wasn’t long before Michael tested the younger two as well, taking the opportunity to drill them even while they were resting. Raphael couldn’t recall who had complained louder out of her and Gabriel. Probably her, considering she was usually the only one who felt remotely comfortable doing it, despite the tendency to hold her tongue elsewhere._

_‘Battles can come at anytime, and you must be ready. Move.’_

_There was a whirring sound as something flew through the air toward the pair lazing on the grass. The blade that was suddenly sticking out of the earth in the space between where her legs were folded had Raphael on her feet in no time._

_Ah, yes. It had definitely been Raphael that had complained first._

Raphael rose up out of her memories with a smile lingering at the corners of her mouth. By all that was holy, she missed those times, and it was with a deep sigh of regret that the archangel turned her attention back to the slip of paper on her desk.

The note was covered in a graceful script that she didn’t recognise, but the language soon told Raphael what she needed to know. Nobody else was that informal, not anymore.

_It’s not much, but it was all I could spare. Drink up sis._

“Gabriel..”

Raphael set the vial back down again, staring at the grace within with an increasing sense of trepidation. The messenger of God had come out of hiding to give her some of his own precious grace.

His message was a warning, that much was clear.

But why?


End file.
